


Found Again

by Llwyden ferch Gyfrinach (Llwyden)



Category: Lost Boys (1987)
Genre: Multi, Post-Canon, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-30
Updated: 2007-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-04 09:25:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llwyden/pseuds/Llwyden%20ferch%20Gyfrinach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't kill a vampire with animal horns, you know. And Michael finds that you can't really go back once you've tasted the other side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Found Again

**Author's Note:**

> This story originally appeared in the multimedia zine Indigo Boys 5, and appears here by kind permission of its editor, Martha Bonds.

> _You are one of us, Michael._

One week. One week since they'd cleaned house and buried the bodies, for want of a better place, back in that old hotel. The Frogs had insisted on reciting some weird service over the corpses, to see that they'd rest in peace.

He could hear David now, laughing, picture him standing at his shoulder, shaking his head: _Not really playing with a full deck, are they?_ Michael silently agreed. This whole thing just seemed ridiculous. Then again, he'd never believed in vampires before, either.

One week since they'd all become human again. Star couldn't seem to get enough of it all — the sun, the normality, freedom from hunger; she'd settled in with the widow Johnson and started a day job, spending all her spare time coaxing him out of the house to walk through the daylight.

He'd walked back to the house with her only yesterday, on the way back from a tearful farewell with Laddie, whose grateful parents had come by to get him. The sun shone brightly all around them, the wind bent the tall grass in waves, and from the not-too-distant road came the intermittent purr of engines.

> Sand under his wheels and wind in his face as he flew down the moonlit coastline, the other boys behind him, David next to him on his own bike, that monstrous Triumph, grinning madly.

Star had sighed contentedly, her face turned upward. "I'm so happy, Michael. This is like a dream come true! We get our own lives back. I want to do it right this time. I have a job, I'll maybe go to school in the fall, it'll be just like before. Only, this time I'll have people who'll take care of me, a place that I belong. Isn't it wonderful?" He recalled her gesture, taking in the entire day as she spun around.

> They drove out from the old hotel, wind whipping the hair back from their faces in their speed. David had not yet said where they were going. Did it really matter? He glanced to his right at the gang leader, who caught his eye and whooped victoriously, as he had last night. But last night's ride had been a race, a competition. Tonight he was with them, he'd earned his place at David's side.
> 
> David's bike roared closer, and his voice sounded loud in Michael's ears despite the noise of their engines. "This is the life, hey, Michael? I knew you belonged here with us!" He howled again, and Michael answered back, more exhilarated than he could recall ever being. He had someplace he belonged now, someone he belonged with that understood him.

Star'd wanted him to go with her again today wandering the beach, maybe swim a little; he'd brushed her off, his mother frowning a bit at his rudeness, and retreated to his darkened room to sleep and brood. He'd always been more of a night person anyway; didn't see why that should change given one week of weirdness. _Six days, _he counted mentally, and corrected himself. One week and six _nights_ since he'd met David and Star and the others. One week since it had all fallen apart.

> _I tried to make you immortal._
> 
> _You tried to make me a killer!_
> 
> _You **are** a killer._

One week and five nights since he'd found someplace he belonged. One week and four nights since he'd found out just what that meant.

> Falling. The fog surrounded him like feathers, seeming to slow his descent. For a few moments it seemed that it had, buoying him up on its currents somehow, and he lost his fear. Then the currents changed, and he began falling again. Whatever this bizarre initiation rite was for, he had failed. However the others had survived, it didn't look as though he would. He wasn't quite sure which of these things hurt him more — the possibility of dying, or the idea that he'd failed, once more, to fit in.
> 
> With a jolt, his descent grew more rapid, and he screamed despite his best intent. _Now they'll know I'm a failure, they'll know I'm a coward, they'll laugh at me..._
> 
> Something clutched at him, bringing him up short, driving the breath from his lungs as his chest folded around a band of steel — an arm. David's arm. Breathless, he looked up at the grinning face of the one that had caught him.
> 
> David chuckled. "Almost."
> 
> Michael struggled to catch his breath, wanting at the same time to thank David for saving his life, and to wipe that infuriating grin off of his face. _Almost...? I could've been killed!_
> 
> As if he'd heard that thought, David chuckled again. "Go ahead, Michael. How far do you think you'd get?"
> 
> Abruptly, Michael realised they were still somewhere above the ground. The fog made it impossible to tell how far up, but they were floating. _There's some trick to this,_ he thought, his mind reeling. _Something to do with those air currents earlier?_ Was that how the other boys did it? It didn't much matter, as long as it kept them alive. But enough was enough. However David was holding them up, he could just put them down the same way. He turned his head to glare up at the blond, and squirmed as David pulled him closer, holding him tightly to his chest, slipping one arm down around his waist, while the other stayed around his shoulders, so that they floated eye to eye, their faces inches apart. Michael felt himself slipping and grabbed at the other boy, his arms automatically embracing him as he steadied himself. _Oh, god, please don't let him let go!_
> 
> "You're one of us, Michael. We always take care of our own." David smiled again, and this time there was something more behind it. "I knew when I saw you, you had to be one of us." The hand on his shoulders slipped into his hair, massaging his scalp and neck in a gesture that was unmistakably sensual. Michael gasped. Surely he couldn't...
> 
> He did. He was. David leaned forward, his tongue plunging deep into Michael's mouth as David's lips fastened over his own. Shocked, he tried to pull away, but the hand in his hair held him fast, seductive but relentless, allowing him no leeway.
> 
> Moist and strong, David's tongue caressed the inside of his mouth, curling around teeth and stroking his own tongue, making him shiver in reaction.
> 
> This was insane. He raised a hand angrily to push David off, and felt himself start to slip again. David's quiet laugh echoed low in his throat, and he pulled Michael's lower lip into his mouth briefly before backing off enough to whisper, "I wouldn't try that if I were you." The hand at his waist turned, molding itself to the seat of his jeans, squeezing and kneading as it held him close against David. His hand tightened in Michael's hair, pulling his head back as David's lips moved to his neck, licking along the vein and sucking strongly at his pulse.

He scrubbed his palms on his jeans and swallowed, remembering. He should've guessed, should've known something was up, it had felt so good... He covered his face with his hands and ran them through his hair, trying to steady his breathing, erase the memory of other hands. _One week and four nights._

One week exactly since those same hands had wrapped around him in anger, as they each fought for control. A fight he'd thought at the time he had won. He'd been angry, furious at yet another person changing his life without asking him. _Dad leaves, Mom moves, then my friend makes me a vampire._ He couldn't stop his hysterical grin. _Not a good month, is it?_ But he'd never really wanted for David to die. Never thought about it at the time. If they could've just talked about everything... He could've used the friend. Even now, knowing... _But David wanted to be more than that. _And it hadn't exactly felt bad._ Never thought it could feel like that with another guy._ That cupid's-bow mouth had known what it was doing. That mouth, and those hands...

> _How far are you willing to go, Michael?_

He resolutely turned his thoughts away, away from dead men and undreamed-of pleasures. _No._ He needed to get out, try to start his life over again. He'd go out with Star tonight, go down to the Boardwalk, have a good time, and forget all about the vampires and their blond leader.

David stood as he carefully brushed the last of the dirt from his coat. His hair was still damp from the ocean where he'd washed the mud from himself.

_I don't suppose they thought it might be nice to wrap me up first?_ was his cynical thought. _Then again, I don't suppose they thought there'd be a reason to, did they?_ He supposed that he ought to be furious, run out and wreak vengeance on those that had done this. He'd had far too few people in his lifetime he could rely on; he couldn't afford to lose them. But the simple truth was, they had caused this themselves. They'd been far too careless, in their choices and actions.

His biggest mistake had been Star. His eyes narrowed. Took her off the beach, gave her a family and place to live, even made her immortal. What lapse of reason had caused him to listen to Max about that? The only good thing that she'd ever done was bring him Michael.

> Star walked up to them, Laddie in tow, and climbed on his bike. She seemed distracted, and he could tell her mind was elsewhere. Then she turned her head sharply, and he followed her gaze. Her hands tightened on his waist, and he could feel her tense. The boy was lovely — whatever her bad qualities, Star had good taste. Full mouth, made for kissing; dark hair, long but shorter than Dwayne's, dark eyes in a face that looked unhappy. Had he been following her? David smiled. This could get interesting.

He'd encouraged her interest the following night, watched as she met with him, seen that lopsided smile, and known that he wanted this one for himself.

> They raced hard, and Michael managed to keep up, in spite of his bike's disadvantage. Then the cliff's edge came close, and he braked hard, dumping his bike, as David stopped his precisely on the edge he knew would be there. He watched as Michael got up, could hear his heart pounding furiously in his chest. David looked at him hungrily, more than his vampire's need firing him.
> 
> "What the hell're you doing, huh?" Michael ran up, pulled his fist back, and punched him square on the jaw. _Strong, too. _The others moved up behind him, but Michael waved them off, pointing at David.
> 
> "Just you. Come on, just you." Expecting trouble, unafraid. Standing there, defiant and beautiful.
> 
> David's admiration only deepened, and he smiled more widely. "How far are you willing to go, Michael?"
> 
> The wary look Michael gave him proved that this might be a challenge. David liked challenges.

An auspicious beginning. An unfortunate ending. _Never should have pushed him so fast to accept it all. This is what you get for thinking with your balls and not your brains._

And this was the result. Paul was truly dead now. No telling how long until Dwayne would recover, if ever. He and Marco had been injured badly; Marco would take a few days to recover — if not for the humans' mistakes, they could both be dead. Only one good thing had come out of this: Max's death. Even dormant, pierced through the heart, he'd felt the tremors that sent through his blood. Max was dead, and he was free.

That in itself was almost worth the trouble.

Not that it had been much trouble. Michael had fit in with them like he truly belonged. He was one of them in his soul; David could feel it. He'd never be happy just growing up, growing old. Settling down with a wife and a family in a house in the suburbs. His heart was wild, and the night was in his veins, as surely as David's own blood had been. Still was, though powerless now. With Max's death, Michael would be human again. But David could feel the bond between them; it was weakened, but it would never completely be broken. Michael might not be a vampire any more, but he was still David's. He had been from the first.

> Michael had shrugged off his arm earlier, but accepted the pot, the food... He was suspicious but not hostile. Susceptible. Star had tried to warn her new friend, and David had glared at her, but in the end Michael had done as _he_ wanted. The others seemed to like him as well; David had made a good choice.
> 
> At the moment, Michael was too dazed from changing to do much with. David placed an arm around him, dragged him close for a joyous kiss, but Michael was so disoriented, he doubted that he would remember.
> 
> Later, David had claimed him more properly, laying him down on one of the beds in an alcove, examining this prize he'd won, running his fingers over the long brown hair, capturing that lovely full mouth with his own, wishing Michael were more coherent for this, before feasting on his hot, sweet blood, replacing it with more of his own.
> 
> Michael lay all but unconscious in his arms as he followed the knowledge gained with his blood to bring Michael home, working his silent way in to place him in his own bed. Oh, how he wanted to keep this one with him! But now was not the time. If David took him away now, Michael might decide as Star had that this life wasn't for him. He had to first learn for himself that his old life was gone, that it could never satisfy him as the new one could. Then he would be ready to leave.

But he had forgotten that later on, hadn't he? He'd been so anxious for him, and when Max had fixated on Michael's mother, it had seemed such a perfect chance, his only chance to kill the master vampire... And so he'd pushed too far, too fast, and Michael had rebelled.

> He looked down on Michael from the rafters, this one that had come to mean so much to him in so short a time. Tried to explain... "I tried to make you immortal."
> 
> The anger the younger man felt poured out through their bond. "You tried to make me a killer!"
> 
> And he tried to explain, show how pointless this dispute was. Even without being a vampire — "You _are_ a killer."
> 
> Michael looked up at him, the vampire dominant, and smiled as he lapped at his own blood.
> 
> But David's triumph was short-lived as Michael flew to attack him once more. They flailed about for a while, David admiring Michael's strength and persistence even as he fought against him. Why fight? What was this really about?
> 
> David growled in frustration. "Stop fighting me, Michael. I don't want to kill you. Join us." _Admit what you are._
> 
> He shook his head. "Never!"
> 
> Exasperated, David pushed once more. "It's too late; my blood is in your veins!" _There **is** no choice, accept it!_
> 
> "So is mine!"

David paused in his memories before recalling the pain when Michael had thrown him onto a pair of sharpened antlers, one of which pierced his heart; he knew nothing more until he healed and broke his way free of the earth on top of him.

He still couldn't understand quite what Michael's objections were, but he intended to find out. This was one lover that wasn't going to escape him. More than beautiful and wild, he was David's equal, and he'd searched too hard for that to give it up once he had found it. Whatever the problem, he'd find it out and eliminate it; what had been done once could be done again, and this time, he'd do it properly, and Michael would make the right choice.

Quickly pulling his coat on, ignoring the new holes, he sprang up the hill to his bike, planning diligently for this evening. He drove along the beach towards the city, carefully avoiding human contact. He wanted no advance notice — no one could know he was coming. He parked his bike under the pier, and carefully looked around as he called to Michael. Not a call to be heard with his ears, but a call to be felt through his blood — David's blood that still flowed through his veins. A call not meant to be understood, but obeyed. A call that would bring him here.

> He called her name, searching about for some clue. ... The bottle he'd drunk from the other night sat on a ledge, and he sniffed at it. The sour smell brought on an unexpected surge of hunger, and he threw it angrily across the room. Whatever it was, it wasn't wine. Another sick joke, one more test of his loyalty?
> 
> He knew something was wrong, something he ought to ask about; then Star walked up to him, refused to answer his questions, kissed him... and he knew that he needed her, needed this contact, needed the smell and the taste of her. Needed to wipe out the pleasure that David had brought him the night before, wipe it out and forget it completely.

It hadn't worked. He'd slept badly, then left at dawn, heading home with fewer answers and more questions than he'd left with. Star had promised him he would find out tomorrow, though she hadn't seemed happy at the idea. He was half minded to sleep in the old hotel, just to be sure that she kept that promise. But in the end, he'd needed the time to himself, and he'd climbed on his bike and pointed it towards his grandfather's house. His mother had accosted him with questions before he even got into the house.

> "If there's a girl..."
> 
> He almost laughed; he could just see it now. "No, ma, the girl isn't the problem. You see, there's this guy..." He had a feeling his mom's hippie "free love" days would only get him so far with that one.
> 
> He avoided Sam all that day. What did you say to someone who was convinced you were a vampire? Maybe it would be better if he were; maybe that would explain away the whole thing.

Michael laughed humorlessly at his own inability to accept his situation. All the evidence of his own eyes, hell, his whole body, and he still hadn't believed it. Not until the next night. _One week and two days ago._

> He went to the sunken hotel, but it was deserted. Frantic, he headed over to the boardwalk, thinking to catch Star there. Several times, he caught a glimpse of someone he thought might be her, but like a will-o'-the-wisp, when he got closer, the girl never turned out to be who he searched for.
> 
> He heard a familiar laugh, and turning saw David standing by one of the railings overlooking a bonfire, the others around him. Just lounging there, seemingly unconcerned about what they had done to him, whatever that was... Furious and hurt, he stalked over, pushing Marco roughly out of his way, and grabbed David by the lapels of his coat. David in turn put his gloved hands on Michael's neck, cradling his head, equal parts threat and seduction.
> 
> Momentarily distracted, Michael resolved to find out what he'd come here for. "Where is she?"
> 
> David blew the smoke from his cigarette into Michael's face and laughed again, that low chuckle that seemed to vibrate through his body. "Take it easy, Michael." Reluctantly, Michael realized how closely he was holding the other man, but he was damned if he'd let David make a fool of him now.
> 
> "Where's Star, David?"
> 
> The polite veneer slipped further, the grin becoming a snarl. "Michael, you ever want to see Star again, you'd better come with us, now." And he walked off, thumping Michael on the chest once as if in disgust. Michael's eyes followed him as he walked off, sleek and black in that coat, with his shock of white hair.
> 
> He had followed. What else could he do?

God... Had he really done it for Star, or for David? And did it really matter? He'd found out that night. Everything; all the answers to his questions given.

> _Initiation's over, Michael. It's time to join the club._
> 
> Then the others were off, swooping down on the Surf Nazis, and there was blood everywhere. The radio couldn't hide the screams or the sounds of tearing flesh. Nothing could hide the voices of the others as they called to him, David's loudest of all. _Michael._ Wanting him to join them, take part in this. And the worst part of it wasn't the noise, or the smell, or the thought of the deaths of the rival gang members.
> 
> The worst part was that he wanted to. _No!_ He couldn't. He _wouldn't_. Screaming his denial, he tried backing out of the tree, and fell flat on the sand. He was still lying there when the vampires finished. He looked up at David. His mouth was covered in blood, and it ran down his chin.
> 
> "So. Now you know what we are, now you know what you are." He sounded awed himself at the simplicity of it. "You'll never grow old, Michael. And you'll never die. But you must feed." He ran one finger over his face, sweeping up the remaining blood, and laughed. He radiated satisfaction, just as he had the other night, the night they'd ... Michael turned away from the present and past horrors, burying his face in the sand.
> 
> The others walked off to their bikes, but David walked over and kneeled next to him in the sand. Michael squeezed his eyes shut, tried to forget David was there. It didn't work. A hand carded through his hair; as he jerked up, ready to run out of there, it snapped around his wrist.
> 
> "Let go of me, David! I'm walking out of here; I'm not one of you, and I won't ever be!"
> 
> David stared into his eyes as he brought up his other hand, still covered in blood, and ran it over Michael's lips.
> 
> Michael froze as the smell re-kindled hunger; he could feel the warmth of the blood on his skin, almost taste it; if only... he tightened his jaw in panic, determined that he would _not_ lick his lips. He wouldn't. But his mouth was so dry...
> 
> Slowly, David leaned forward. The press of his lips sent a shockwave through Michael's body for a moment, before that well-remembered tongue emerged to clean the blood from his lips. Then, as before, the pale hands were in his hair, and the cool tongue invaded his mouth. Traces of blood tingled with heat and promise, and he cleaned them off, his own tongue pushing into David's mouth to glean whatever drops he could.
> 
> David's strong hands pulled him back, both their eyes glazed in pleasure. "You _are_ one of us. You always have been." Then he took Michael's mouth again, implacable and fierce, and it was better than before. The rough hands opened up his jacket, delved into his jeans, and he was past caring what else they'd been doing just minutes before.

Michael shivered, remembering. David had taken him higher than he'd ever been before; more than just sex, he had taken his blood, given Michael his own. It was a sharing at least as intimate as the physical one. It seemed to bind them to each other more strongly, somehow. Was that why he couldn't stop remembering? Couldn't stop running over in his mind the things they had done? _Last week... _He stumbled a few steps further in the darkness. _Last week I could see in the dark._ His foot caught on a miniature sand-dune, and he sat down hard on the sand for a moment before collecting himself, standing and clutching his arms around his chest, feeling suddenly cold.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approaching him, and glanced up, prepared to tell them off.

All rational thought fled his mind.

_David?!_

This wasn't possible. He was dead! This couldn't be happening. _Why not?_ he argued with himself. _He is a vampire._ Could it really be him? _Just old memories haunting me..._

David was grinning. Grinning! That expression brought back too many memories; he must be hallucinating. It had been over a week since David had last smiled at him like that. One week and...

And David reached out, stroked a hand along his face, and he was real. Solid. There.

Part of Michael wanted to get out, to turn and run away and never look behind him. But he couldn't. David's eyes had caught his, and he stood riveted, his feet rooted to the ground, his blood pounding in his veins.

The other part of him looked into David's eyes, and saw the cold heat there, and could do nothing other than stay.

"Hello, Michael."

The voice was just as he remembered it. He closed his eyes briefly, trying desperately to calm his breathing, then looked back up into the light blue eyes opposite his.

"How..." He shook his head. Did it really matter how? The question was, what did he do now? He ought to run back, tell Star and Sam and the others that David was still alive, that he had come back... He ought to do that, if he could only convince his feet to start moving away.

Sensing his indecision, David reached out once again, running a hand through his hair, down his face, resting it on his neck. "Join us, Michael. Come back with me." His smile was both softer and more predatory than Michael had recalled.

It was tempting. He could go back, drink David's blood again... _Have as little choice now as I did the first time. Have him make the decision for me._ The thought was like ice-water. He stepped back just out of reach of the pale hands. "Or what? Are you gonna kill me this time if I say no?"

David lowered his hands, and his face became serious. "I could force you, Michael. I can control you through our shared blood if I have to."

Agony speared into Michael like lightning, and he gasped, clutching his head and staggering. Then it stopped, and the relief for a moment was just as overwhelming.

David was still talking, the blue eyes gazing at him intently. "You've seen what I can do. But I don't want to. This can still be your own choice." Pleasure echoed down the bond, soothing the remains of the pain, playing gently along his nerve endings. "You're one of us; you know it's true. Leave your human life. You no longer need to be a part of it. Come with me." He stepped closer again, running his hands over Michael's arms and around to his back, not quite an embrace.

Michael just stared at him. Was it true — could he really be one of them, just leave everything else like that? He thought back on his dissatisfaction this last week, compared that to the feeling of belonging that he'd felt in the old hotel, or riding on their bikes at night, just being with David and the others. _No._ There was more to it than that.

There was, for instance, this: David's hands still racing over him, now on his chest and stomach, David's mouth nuzzling his ear. Did he really want all of this? He tried in vain to ignore the screaming of his body that could only answer _Yes!_

David backed off ever so slightly, as if in deference to his beleaguered mind. The hands continued stroking slowly, soothing now rather than arousing.

"You can leave here if you want. I won't stop you, Michael. You can go home to your family and try to live a normal life. You can marry Star and have a few kids and grow old and die. Or, you can come with me, and live forever, and never have to worry about any of that anymore. Together, we can do what we like, go wherever we want. Think about it, Michael." David pulled him closer, tracing a finger over his collarbone and up his neck. "And you'll never have to be alone."

Michael tried to think of Star once more, to think of his human life, of what it might be like if he walked away. David had ceased to influence him through his blood. He could make his own choice. He could live a normal life. But wasn't that precisely what he'd been doing for this past week?

On the other hand, to live forever... But at what price? Could he really be the killer David was, ignore the fact that to gain eternal life he'd have to murder others?

A voice spoke up within his head, and he couldn't tell if it were David's or his own: _Don't think of it as murder, Michael. We only kill to live, to eat. Humans kill the animals they eat, why shouldn't we? You won't be human anymore. You're a predator that preys on them, just as every lifeform preys on something else._

_Not human anymore? But never alone._ Was that what he wanted? If he didn't decide soon, the choice would be taken from him; thought was becoming increasingly difficult under David's ministrations, as he sucked at an earlobe, trailing his wet mouth down over a cheekbone, patterning Michael's face with open-mouthed kisses.

Michael swallowed, forcing saliva into a throat gone dry with nerves. He knew what his decision would have to be, the only possible choice he could make.

Reaching up, he grabbed David's head, forcing him still. Licking his lips nervously, he closed the tiny gap between them, tracing with his tongue the mouth that had haunted his memories, before pressing in for a deeper kiss.

It was different, feeling the coldness of David's skin while his own still was warm. They stayed like that for long moments, tongues sliding together, hot against cold, as hands felt their way under shirts and caressed muscles.

Michael broke the kiss to breathe, daring a look at his new-chosen lover. As usual, his lips were stretched in a smile, but this one was of welcome rather than victory. The smile of one who knew his trust had not been misplaced, and was happy to see it confirmed. He proved that joy to Michael with a strength that he reflected should have intimidated him, but instead only made him more desperate. They lowered themselves to the damp sand, impatiently pushing clothing aside as each strained for as much skin as he could reach. Michael ruthlessly buried the last of the negative thoughts in his head, and determined that he would enjoy himself.

It was worth it. It was all worth it. That mouth, and those hands. And he pushed back this time, not about to let David do all of the work. Their delighted moans filled the moist air as they neared climax.

_Almost there..._

David moved one hand back to Michael's head and parted his lips with a thumb, then darted in for one last breathless kiss before tilting his head back and running his mouth along the exposed neck. Michael shivered with need and the memory of their other time on the sand, and wondered how different it would feel this time.

Then the wondering was over. _Just as good,_ he thought. And, _Even better._ The sensation spiked through him, directly to his groin, and he came explosively, even as he felt his life draining away. That didn't matter. Nothing mattered except David and the bone-melting ecstasy surrounding him. Then David was holding him up, and his mouth was pressed to David's neck, and he found himself drinking in the deep, rich blood. This was, if possible, even better than the other way around, and he gave himself up to it, his final thought, irrationally, _How could I ever mistake this for wine?_

He blinked his eyes open some time later, unsurprised to find that he had apparently passed out. David leaned on an elbow above him, a sardonic twist to his lips indicating his amusement.

"I suppose that I should take that as a compliment."

Michael glared at him in feigned ill-temper. "I suppose you should." Shifting suddenly, he lunged at David, flattening him on the sand. With a shout, David turned them over, and they were wrestling in earnest, each trying to gain the upper hand, though the outcome was never terribly in doubt.

Lying atop his vanquished lover, David grinned down at Michael. "Gotcha."

Michael's answering smile was genuine, if a bit shaky. These moments here had been wonderful, but now they were over he couldn't help feeling a little uncertain about all of this. Not enough to regret his choice, but enough to dampen his joy a bit.

"Don't worry about it, Michael." Startled, he looked up at the pale body over his. David leaned down to kiss him. "Everything will get better with time. After all, we've got plenty."

They shared another delicious kiss, and Michael grabbed David, reversing their positions, pinning David to the sand. He only laughed once more, sounding genuinely pleased.

Michael knew that he was smiling like an idiot now, but who was here to see him? Only David, and he looked exactly the same. Standing up, he offered David a hand, and they sorted out their clothing and got dressed.

Laying an arm about his shoulders, David steered him to the bike waiting only a few yards away. He'd need to get his own soon; there was no way his old one could handle the punishment these things went through nightly. And pleasant as it might be, he had no intention of riding behind David forever. If he was to join him, it would be as an equal.

From the enthusiastic reaction as he spun David about for one more possessive kiss, he suspected that might be just what he wanted.

He climbed on the bike behind David, wondering at how his life could change so completely in two weeks — _One week and six days,_ he reminded himself contentedly — from heaven to hell and then back again. He still wasn't sure which was which, but wherever he was, that's where he wanted to stay. Next to someone he belonged to, that belonged to him.

Whatever happened the rest of their lives, that made it all worth it, after all.

The Triumph roared as they headed off into the night — together.


End file.
